


One of Our Submarines

by mydogwatson



Series: Postcard Tales II [14]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kidlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-29
Updated: 2016-06-29
Packaged: 2018-07-19 02:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7340503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two little boys meet in the park and it all begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One of Our Submarines

**Author's Note:**

> Well what else was there to do with this title, unless one wanted to go all Verne and Wells and steampunky. Which would be great fun, but not on a postcard. Hope you like this, as I always find these two little boys irresistible.
> 
> One note: I am having a bit of a crisis with my dog [yes, Watson]. We have a vet appointment tomorrow. While I am hoping to still be able to post as usual, I cannot promise, so I wanted to let you all know. There are still tales to come, so I will be back ASAP. Thanks.

His sister ran off almost immediately, of course. As usual.

Johnny rather thought that Gran was right when she called Harry irresponsible. He didn’t know what that word meant, but Gran helped him find it in the dictionary and read the words there to him. And, yes, that sounded very much like his dumb sister.

She had been meant to stay with him while he played by the pond, but her stupid friend Arabella had turned up and off they went to sit on one of the benches under the trees. He could just see them, mostly because they both wore bright yellow t-shirts and how dumb was that? Matching clothes. Ugh.

Not that Johnny cared even one little bit. He didn’t need her here to stop him from drowning. Or to have fun.

He sat on a dry spot of the pavement that circled the pond and opened the cardboard box carefully. It took both hands for him to lift out his new boat. It was a birthday gift from Granddad, handmade by him, and Johnny loved it extravagantly. The sailing ship was painted a bright sky blue and its name, HMS WATSON, was carefully lettered in white on both sides. This would be its maiden voyage.

But not quite yet. Instead, Johnny just sat there, running his fingers along the smooth surface, tidying the sails, testing the rudder. He was only vaguely aware of someone settling next to him on the pavement.

“I have a submarine,” a light, soft voice said.

Johnny turned to see who was talking.

The boy was smaller than Johnny, pale, with long legs and a mess of dark curls. He also wore shorts, but his were tidy dark green ones, not a pair created by cutting off some old blue jeans that Harry had outgrown, and a pale green polo shirt with a little horse on it.

“I beg your pardon?” Johnny said; Gran was always teaching him about good manners.

“I _said_ that I have a submarine.”

He looked young, maybe only five to Johnny’s seven. “Really?”

Instead of saying anything, the boy reached into a canvas satchel and pulled out a sleek and fierce-looking black vessel. “This is my submarine,” he said.

“Wow, pretty cool,” Johnny said. He offered a look at his ship. “This is mine. My granddad made it for me.”

The boy looked at it. “Very nice, I’m sure.”

“Did your granddad make that for you?

“My grandfathers are both dead. I never met them.”

Johnny’s other grandfather had died a long time ago as well, so he understood and only nodded.

“My parents sent me this from Moscow.” He was examining the submarine as if looking for secrets and frowned fleetingly. “They had promised to be back for my first violin recital, but the meetings went longer than expected and so they sent me this instead.”

To Johnny, that sounded a little bit sad, but he thought that it might be rude to say so. Or it might hurt the boy’s feelings. Thinking about that reminded him of more polite things Gran had taught him. He held out one hand. “My name is Johnny Watson, by the way.”

After a moment, his hand was taken into the smaller one. “Sherlock Holmes,”

Johnny thought about the fact that Sherlock was littler. “Are you here all by yourself?”

Sherlock made a face. “My stupid brother is over there,” he said with a gesture.

Johnny followed the direction of the wave and saw a bigger boy, dressed in tidy trousers, white shirt, and tie. He was not watching Sherlock. Instead, he was bent over a thick book. Beyond that bench, he could still see the two yellow t-shirts. “I’m going to set sail,” he said, attaching the long string to the boat and then bending forward to put it into the water. The breeze caught the small sails and the ship began to move. 

Johnny was entranced as he let out the string and the boat moved to the middle of the pond.

“I’m going to put mine in,” Sherlock said. He stuck the key in and turned until the submarine was wound and ready to launch. With a glance at Johnny, to be sure he was watching, Sherlock set the sub into the water and let go.

It buzzed along quite smartly, heading after Johnny’s ship, catching it, then bumping the hull. The HMS Watson tottered briefly, but then recovered. Johnny cheered and started to pull it backwards. “That was cool,” he said.

Sherlock smiled a bit.

Then, as they watched, the impressive black submarine slowly lost power and began to sink. In only a moment, it was gone from sight. Because it was a submarine, they just waited for it to resurface. Sherlock helped Johnny pull the sailboat out of the water and rewind the string.

But even when they had finished all of that, there was still no sight of the submarine. Johnny could see Sherlock’s face begin to fall and he was afraid that the little boy was going to start crying. Briefly, he considered wading in to rescue the submarine and he even kicked off his shoes.

Apparently Harry was paying more attention than he’d thought, because her shouting reached him almost immediately. “Don’t you dare, John Hamish Watson!”

Sherlock gave a sniff.

Then Johnny got an idea. He ran over to the bench where Sherlock’s brother was still reading. “His submarine sank,” he said.

Without looking up, the big boy made a not-nice smile. “Rather the point of a submarine, I think.”

Johnny put a hand on the book and shoved it down. “Sherlock is going to cry,” he whispered fiercely. “You better come.”

With a sigh, he set the book down and walked with Johnny over to the pond. He gave Sherlock a sharp look. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” He slipped off his shoes and socks, rolled his trouser legs way up, and waded into the water.

“In the middle,” Sherlock said loudly.

“Of course it would be in the middle.” He kept muttering, but after a moment, bent over and pulled the submarine up, getting his sleeve all wet. Nearly stomping his way back, he handed the recovered vessel to Sherlock. “Don’t do that again. And who are you?” he said sharply to Johnny.

Sherlock glared at him. “This is my friend, John Hamish Watson.”

“Oh, wonderful, now you have a troublesome friend.” The mean brother went back to the bench and picked up his book again.

After a moment, they sat down on the pavement again. Johnny giggled.

“What’s funny?” Sherlock asked.

“He was so mad.”

Sherlock nodded, then he grinned. “What do you know about pirates?” he asked.

For the rest of the afternoon they sat there and talked about pirates and space ships and why big brothers and sisters were so mean. It was the best day Johnny Watson had ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> Title From: One of Our Submarines by Commander Edward Young


End file.
